So today I celebrated twenty-three years of marriage with the best guy I know. Honestly, this marriage thing is hard. In the years we have been together, we have walked through, and not very gracefully, the birth of a special needs child, alcoholism, job losses, separation, health issues, money issues, deaths of loved ones, and the list goes on. This isn’t meant to be a depressing post, but more of an honest account.
Marriage is messy. Dealing with two very different personalities with a variety of opinions and solutions can create a very volatile formula. Even through a separation, a lot of counseling, and addiction issues, we were able to come out the other side. Now I refuse to write a dissertation about how perfect our marriage is because, folks, it isn’t. I don’t know anyone that has the perfect union. People that spew that their marriage is perfect might be in denial. There are so many components that perfection is a pretty unrealistic expectation.
This is a marathon of sorts, so we pace ourselves. We continue to work on ourselves one day at a time. He drives me insane. I have often imagined smothering him with a pillow, but that would guarantee me a prison sentence and honestly, I wouldn’t survive. He is driven bonkers with my annoying habits and constant yammering. Despite all of that, I wouldn’t walk this path with anyone else.
As I glance back on the last twenty-three years, I marvel that we still like each other, support each other, and most of all, respect each other. We grew up together, literally. The good outweighs the not so good. We still have a lot to work on, which is good because I wouldn’t want us to get bored.